


Nothing to my name (and no trophy for my game)

by jucee



Series: Victuuri drabbles [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tennis, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2019-06-13 22:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15374604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jucee/pseuds/jucee
Summary: The one where they play tennis but everything else is the same.





	Nothing to my name (and no trophy for my game)

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from _Extraordinary Way_ by Conjure One.

It’s Yuuri’s first time in such a large arena, and the crowd is loud, overwhelming. His stomach is churning, he’s trying to remember his coach’s advice but his mind keeps going blank, and his hands are sweating even though the contest hasn’t even begun yet.

The announcer introduces them during the five-minute warm up, and Yuuri’s introduction is embarrassingly short. His opponent’s introduction, though, seems to go on forever. As Yuuri listens to the unending list of accomplishments, he begins to wonder what he’s even doing here, whether he should just forfeit and save everyone the trouble of waiting for the inevitable result. 

Finally, the announcer concludes with a flourish, “...winner of 16 grand slams, 71 ATP titles and 80 million dollars in career prize money. Ladies and gentlemen, the world number one, Victor Nikiforov of Russia!”

Yuuri almost wants to clap and cheer along with the crowd, until he remembers that he isn’t at home in Hasetsu, watching this on tv. He’s actually on centre court at Melbourne Park, in front of ten thousand tennis fans and millions of viewers worldwide, about to play the greatest player of all time.

He loses, of course. 

* * *

Afterwards, in the locker room, Celestino tries to console him. “You made some great shots, Yuuri! Your backhand down the line was amazing today, it gave Nikiforov a lot of trouble in the first set. It’s just bad luck that you met him in the second round. You’ve done well for your first grand slam!”

Yuuri nods, silently. He can’t quite meet his coach’s eyes.

Phichit passes through the locker room on his way to his own match on an outside court, and gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Tough draw, Yuuri. Better luck next time.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri mumbles.

As he waits for his turn to get a massage, he scrolls through the Japanese news articles and winces at the headlines. He finds himself looking up flights to Fukuoka, a lot earlier than he had hoped and dreamed.

* * *

Yuuri’s homecoming is five years too late and kind of awkward, but he’s happy to see his family again, and to practise on the courts that he grew up playing on. 

He spends hours every day just hitting, lining up empty ball cans on the other side of the court and knocking them over, one by one. First he does it with serves, then forehands, then backhands, then overhead smashes, then volleys. As usual, he hits the ball with pinpoint accuracy, and small crowds of people start to gather around the court to watch him practise.

When the triplets upload that video, it goes viral, and not just among tennis fans. It reaches a million views by the end of the week, and Yuuri is almost afraid to go back to the court, or even to leave the house at all. He shuts himself in, doing strength training and conditioning instead; Celestino always said his core wasn’t strong enough, even though he has plenty of stamina.

And then he wakes up on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning to find Victor Nikiforov on his doorstep.

“Yuuri!” Victor exlaims, his smile so bright that it almost hurts Yuuri’s eyes to look directly at him. “Starting today, I will be your new coach!”

Yuuri just stares at him, his mouth gaping like a fish. After a moment, he pinches himself to check that he isn’t still asleep and this isn’t another one of those crazy dreams that he’s had about Victor since he was a teenager.

Eventually, he manages to say, “Sorry, but I can’t afford you.”

Though it didn’t seem possible, Victor’s smile gets even brighter. “That’s okay! You can pay me when you win your first grand slam title.”

“B-But... how... are you retiring?” Just the thought of it makes Yuuri sad, even as he’s trying to process the surreal situation he’s in.

“Hmm,” Victor says with a shrug, but doesn’t actually answer. “I saw that video of you, Yuuri, and it made me remember our match. You played that amazing game at 3-2 in the first set, but then you seemed to lose confidence and you stayed so passive for the rest of the match.”

Victor tilts his head down and stares deeply into Yuuri’s eyes from about six inches away. Frozen, Yuuri can’t move or look away. “I want to make you into an aggressive, confident player, Yuuri. You’ll be able to take on anybody, and have the belief that you can beat them.”

Leaning in even closer, Victor murmurs, “I’ll make you a winner.”


End file.
